


Everything You Do

by jishler



Series: Like Waters Poured Into One Jar [3]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Communication, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Feminization, Gender Dysphoria, Harry in Panties, Louis Tomlinson Calls Harry Styles Pet Names, M/M, Rimming, gender euphoria, gender joy!!!!!!!!!, i cant BELIEVE it took this long for daddy kink to appear in this series, oh gosh, they love each other very much :))
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:13:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28680897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jishler/pseuds/jishler
Summary: “You like feeling like my girl?” Louis wasn’t asking just about sex.His words weren’t harsh, Harry realized. The hands on his back and in his hair were still there, still moving. Louis just sounded — he just sounded like he was asking Harry to explain.“Yeah,” whispered Harry. He hadn’t felt this fragile in Louis’s arms for as long as he could remember. Like Louis could prod him too hard and he’d shatter. Collapse into dust. But Louis keptnotprodding him,notpushing him. He just kept holding him, surely, like Louis knew he wouldn't break him.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Series: Like Waters Poured Into One Jar [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2075832
Comments: 36
Kudos: 231





	Everything You Do

**Author's Note:**

> This was partially inspired by the fic that will haunt me (in a good way) till I'm old and grey, [Time Passed](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24309451/chapters/58601914), and of course, the timeless classic, [Are You Gonna Be My Girl? ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4034737). Everything You Do is set in July 2016, and we see things from H's perspective this time!

“Do you have plans this weekend?” 

Harry asked the question into the air, staring at the ceiling from where he lay on the bed. He’d spoken after a considerable stretch of silence, and Harry was half sure Louis had fallen asleep. 

But it was an hour earlier in London, after all, and Louis’s voice came through tinnily on speakerphone from where Harry’s phone rested on his chest. 

“Not really,” said Louis. “Might get drinks with Andrew, remember him? My old mate from school.” 

Harry hummed to signal he’d heard, but mentally he was knee-deep in an argument with himself. Back and forth, between _calm down it’s not a big deal you’ll get over it_ and a glimmering _maybe Louis would understand._ The second side was already winning, though — he’d let himself ask about Louis’s plans. Hearing that Louis wasn’t too busy, Harry gave in. 

“I have the whole weekend off,” said Harry. When they’d first started filming, Harry had thought that the general unease that settled over him each evening was just a product of the newness of the experience; the heaviness of the subject matter in the script. But now, halfway through the third week, the unease had only gotten worse. It found him, each time he stepped out of character and back into himself. “I’m gonna come home.” 

“Oh,” said Louis, and he was right to be surprised — Harry had been adamant about immersing himself in the experience, working hard during the week and getting to know his castmates in their time off. “Great, of course... I’d love to see you.” Harry could hear the confusion in Louis’s voice. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, willing tears away. He felt embarrassed for caving, but already felt a breath of hope having done it. “I’ll just drive over,” he said. “We’ll be done around five on Friday, so I’ll leave then, I guess.” Harry brought a hand up to his head, ran his fingers through his military-regulation hair. No matter how many times he’d done it in the past few weeks, its brutal shortness was still shocking to him. 

“Okay,” agreed Louis. “I’ll be here.” A few more beats of quiet, and then: “Are you okay, baby?” 

And there it was: Somewhere between Louis’s soft tone, his infallible ability to perceive Harry’s moods even through the phone, and the  _ baby _ , Harry lost his precariously-balanced composure. He sniffled as tears rolled down his temples and onto the pillow. “Baby,” came Louis’s voice again, this time brimming with concern and care. “Oh, baby, what’s wrong?” 

“I —” started Harry, sitting up and wiping his eyes. “It’s nothing bad, I promise. I just...” He didn’t know how to express what was going on in his head; how to describe the strange feeling of alienation that had taken up residence between his body and mind. He deflected. “This whole thing, filming, acting, is so new and stressful. And hard. And I miss you,” said Harry truthfully. That was part of it, at least.

“I miss you too.” A pause. “Is that all, though?” Of course Louis could tell. 

“No, but it’s... it’s hard to describe? Can we just — talk about it on the weekend?”

“Sure,” came Louis’s reply. Harry could hear that the concern hadn’t left his voice, though, and right on cue: “H, you’re sure you’re okay? I’ll drive there right now, I could be there in, like, three hours.” 

Despite himself, Harry felt his heart warming at Louis’s proposition. “No, I promise, I’m okay,” said Harry. “I mean,” he corrected, “I’m not great, which is why I’m coming home, but I’ll be fine until Friday.” It’s Wednesday night now, so there were barely forty-eight hours until he’d see Louis. “We’re starting really early in the morning tomorrow, anyway. And I feel better, just making the plan to come.” 

“Okay,” said Louis, seemingly convinced. “I love you.” 

“I love you,” Harry repeated. 

They fell into silence again, and Harry listened to Louis’s breathing from the phone. “I’m all ready for bed,” started Harry, quieter this time. “You saw Lottie the other day, right? Tell me about it? And then I’ll go to sleep?” He already felt miles better, still unsure but trusting in healing properties of a weekend in Louis’s arms. And,  _ maybe Louis would understand _ _.  _

Harry could hear Louis shuffling around on the other end of the line, probably (knowing Louis) scooting himself nearer to Clifford on the bed to try and entice the dog into a snuggle. “Yeah,” said Louis once the background noise stopped. “She actually came over here and we cooked dinner together. Or rather, she cooked but I helped...” 

Harry hung on long enough to hear about the cooking process, but the time past-Louis and Lottie had sat down to eat, Harry was fast asleep. 

*** 

Harry found Louis on his phone in the sitting room, sprawled across his favorite armchair. They’d both been exhausted by the time Harry had arrived in London the previous night, and hadn’t done much else but fall into each other’s arms, eat, and go to sleep. Now, late-morning light was casting a warm glow onto Louis and the rest of the room. “Hi,” said Harry softly as he crossed the room, opening the windows. A sweet summer breeze filled the air, and Harry was already feeling more at peace. 

Louis put his phone down, watching Harry cross the room and drop into his lap. “Hey baby,” said Louis, pulling Harry in close. “Had a good run?” 

“Yeah,” breathed Harry into Louis’s chest. Despite Louis’s sleepy protests, he’d extricated himself from their warm duvet and Louis’s arms that morning, knowing his body would settle better if he got some exercise. Now, freshly showered, they both knew Harry was out of excuses to avoid telling Louis why he’d come home. 

They sat there for a while, Harry on Louis’s lap and Louis’s hand stroking absent-mindedly through Harry’s hair. Louis was the first to break the silence. “Want to talk about it?” 

“No,” said Harry, letting himself resist for one more moment. 

“Uh-huh,” said Louis, gentle but unconvinced. Harry shut his eyes. He’d driven three and a half hours to come home for less than two days; he couldn’t pretend there wasn’t a reason why. 

“Um.” The truth was that Harry had been drafting different ways to explain it the whole drive home. Nothing had felt right, though; he couldn’t think of a phrasing that didn’t make him feel icky or wrong or even more confused. “It’s kind of stupid, really.” But he had to talk now, so he just shut his eyes and said whatever came out first. 

What came out first was, “My hair is so short.” 

That probably hadn’t been what Louis was expecting, but Louis seemed to take it in stride. “It is,” he agreed, moving his hands through Harry’s hair with more purpose now. “Look like a right pretty soldier.” 

And Louis didn’t know, Louis couldn’t _possibly_ have known, but the singular descriptor _pretty_ coming from his mouth pierced straight through Harry, overwhelming him, giving him hope and somehow making him feel closer to peace than he had in weeks. 

Harry felt his eyes brimming with tears as he shoved his face deeper into Louis’s neck, clinging on tight. “I don’t...” he started. “I don’t feel pretty...” Louis’s other hand, the one not in his hair, started moving in circles on Harry’s back. “It’s so short, I look like a  _ boy _ ,” he said. Nonsensically. 

And since that statement was nonsensical, this would be the time for Louis to say, gently of course, “but you are a boy, love.” But Harry waited and waited, and the contradiction never came. Instead, Louis just hummed a little  _ hmm _ sound, like he was asking Harry to go on. 

With Harry plastered to Louis’s chest, there was no doubt that Louis could feel the anxiety in Harry’s body; the way his heartbeat was pounding fast. Bolstered a little by Louis’s unexpected response, Harry lifted his head, eyes meeting Louis’s. He was already halfway through his confession; there was no point hiding anymore. “With this haircut I don’t... feel like your girl,” he said, all in a rush. That was the only way he could begin to explain it.

Harry being ‘Louis’s girl’ was something they’d stumbled into years ago — a sex thing; something kinky they did sometimes. It usually ended up with Louis calling Harry  _ babygirl _ and giving him exclusively feminine praise, calling Harry’s cock a clit and pretending like Harry could get wet for him and that the messiness between his legs wasn’t just spit or come or lube. But it had never come up outside of sex, or outside conversations about kinks and boundaries. 

“Oh,” said Louis. Louis hadn’t contradicted him before, but this, Harry thought, this was when Louis would carefully push him off his lap and start pacing the room. Louis was gay, after all, the whole point was that he _didn’t_ _want_ a girl. The air was horribly silent for a moment, and Harry, drowning in uncertainty, opened his mouth to backpedal, apologize, do _anything_ , before Louis spoke again. 

“You like feeling like my girl?” Louis wasn’t asking just about sex. 

His words weren’t harsh, Harry realized. The hands on his back and in his hair were still there, still moving. Louis just sounded — he just sounded like he was asking Harry to explain. 

“Yeah,” whispered Harry. He hadn’t felt this fragile in Louis’s arms for as long as he could remember. Like Louis could prod him too hard and he’d shatter. Collapse into dust. But Louis kept  _ not _ prodding him,  _ not _ pushing him. He just kept holding him, surely, like Louis knew he wouldn't break him.

“It’s not like,” Harry started, frowned, paused. “It’s not like I want to be a girl, I just, I mean, you already know. You already know me. And it’s not like I’ve ever really been super... manly...” They both giggled at that and Harry felt some of the heaviness around them dissipate. 

“No,” Louis agreed softly, and leaned forward to kiss his jaw. The touch was light but Harry felt all the way through his body, validating and absolving. 

“I’ve just always felt, like, partway between? Like a sliding scale, sometimes, but never fully here nor there.”

“Mmm,” said Louis.

“But this haircut is so...  _ there _ .” 

“Ah,” said Louis, and Harry could tell. He could see the understanding in Louis’s eyes, in the way Louis’s hand slid up to hold the back of his neck. Louis understood, was taking it seriously, and after three weeks of tossing and turning and chastizing himself for getting so put out over a stupid  _ haircut _ , this was everything. 

“You don’t think it’s stupid?” Harry found himself asking, still needing to check. Needing confirmation against what he’d been convincing himself about for weeks. 

“No, love,” said Louis, and Harry felt the tears that had been welling in his eyes start to spill over. He let Louis pull him down, mash their bodies closer together. Harry was certainly getting teardrops and snot on Louis’s shirt, but it’d been six years, he figured, and by now they’d both cried on each other’s shoulders more times than they could count. 

Harry’s brain felt like fuzz and static, and he let Louis soothe him until he was just sniffling, still holding tight to Louis. “I love when you’re my girl,” said Louis after a while. “Even when we’re not playing, and we’re not, like, calling you my girl, you know? She’s never far.” And maybe what Louis was saying didn’t technically make much sense, but Harry understood; could hardly believe it. 

“When you make dinner for us, when you wear pretty knickers,” Louis listed, kissing Harry’s neck once for each item. It was like Louis was putting puzzle pieces together in his head. “When you take control and fuck me  _ so _ good, I can’t even walk after...” Harry felt a high little noise escape him before he could stop it, and leaned back shakily to give Louis better access to his neck. “When you always do the girls’ parts in duets, when you talk about football and work out and do boxing... Always a bit of my girl, in everything you do. And I love you, love her.” 

“Louis,” whispered Harry, reeling from the emotional turmoil and being so suddenly turned on. “ _ Louis _ ,” he said again, as he kept feeling lips all over his collarbones, up his neck, onto his cheek. “Louis.” He turned his head so their lips could meet and kissed Louis fervently, trying to push all the relief and love into Louis’s mouth. 

Louis pulled back first and Harry just gazed down at him, feeling still fragile but more at home than he ever had, under the weight of Louis’s understanding and acceptance. Louis was smiling, a glint in his eye like he was up to something, but Harry couldn’t even think enough to predict it because he was stuck, brain stuck on a loop of _always a bit of my girl in everything you do_ and _LouisLouisLouis_. 

“Well,” said Louis, and  _ oh _ , now Harry recognized that glint. “Since she has the weekend off from her fancy movie shoot... Will you let daddy take care of his girl?”

Harry felt the blood rush to his cheeks, brain and heart turning to mush at almost the same rate he could feel his cock start to harden between their bodies. “Yeah?” Harry asked, a question for a question. It was rare that Louis pulled out the daddy thing  _ and _ the girl thing at the same time, and Harry was already overwhelmed. 

“Yeah,” confirmed Louis, a wide grin on his face. “Budge up, baby, let’s go to bed.” Harry giggled and stood up, taking Louis’s hands and pulling Louis to his feet. “Lead the way,” said Louis after kissing him soundly, gesturing obligingly towards the staircase. Heart singing, Harry pulled Louis behind him and practically ran through the house, up the stairs, and into their bedroom. Louis closed the door behind them — a necessary measure when the dog was in the house — and turned to face Harry. 

“Now,” said Louis, and Harry could tell he was getting organized; could see the cogs in Louis’s brain turning as he planned out the scene. “First off,” Louis said, stepping forward into Harry’s space and running his hands down Harry’s side, “My girl likes to look pretty. Luckily,” said, nosing along Harry’s neck, “you’re about the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” Harry shivered, closing his eyes. 

“What are you wearing, baby? Under here?” Louis’s hands had made their way down to Harry’s hips and were now rubbing over the front of his jeans, on either side of his hips. Harry felt himself twitch forward at the contact, so close to where his body wanted to be touched. 

“Just... normal pants,” said Harry, voice barely above a whisper. 

“Why don’t we get you in some nice knickers, hmm? Pretty knickers to match my pretty baby?” 

Harry found himself nodding, brain hazy but already drifting in the direction of that lovely drawer in his dresser. Between what he’d bought for himself and gifts from Louis, he’d amassed quite a collection over the years. He wore them almost as regularly as more standard mens’ pants, but hadn’t packed any knickers when he left for France. It had felt too at odds with the role he was expected to play, and who he’d be viewed as on set. 

“Let’s get you out of these, then you can pick out a pair, yeah?” said Louis, already reaching for the hem of Harry’s shirt. Harry let Louis undress him, revealing in the intimacy of his touch; the softness in the way Louis handled him. Harry felt loved; cherished. 

Louis moved to steer him towards the dresser once Harry was naked, but Harry stopped him to pull off Louis’s shirt as well. He took a long moment to run his hands over Louis’s chest and stomach, tracing over the tattoos that he’d memorized long ago. “I get some skin, too,” said Harry softly. He leaned down to kiss Louis’s bare shoulder, skin so soft and warm, and moved across the room to look through his drawer of knickers. 

As Louis came up to squeeze his hips behind him, Harry picked out a lacy, dusty-red pair — simple; elegant — and presented them to Louis. “Put them on?” asked Harry. 

Wordlessly, Louis took the knickers and turned Harry around, leaning him up against the wood of the dresser. Harry watched as Louis knelt in front of him, and gently picked up one of Harry’s feet. 

Louis slipped the knickers up Harry’s legs and settled them over his hips. Harry’s cock was mostly hard and stood out a bit obscenely from the lace, but Louis just took it in gentle hands and tucked it neatly into the waistband. Harry bit his lip at the contact, only letting out a breath once Louis had taken his hand away. It didn’t matter that all of him hardly fit into the front of the knickers. It was the way Louis’s eyes were fixed on him, reverently. It was the feeling, the feeling that was important. 

“There you go,” said Louis softly from where he knelt before him, hands sliding over Harry’s thighs. Harry watched Louis as he leaned forward and started kissing his thighs, biting and sucking just hard enough to make Harry grab onto the dresser for stability. 

“Lou,” sighed Harry, not even sure what he was trying to communicate. Louis didn’t answer, anyway, just kept kissing and biting and sometimes picking up a leg, to get better access to where Harry was that much more sensitive on his inner thighs. Harry could feel his brain slipping, narrowing its focus to exclude anything besides the person in front of him. He didn’t fight it. Harry had nothing but trust in Louis. 

Through the haze, Harry felt Louis’s hands on his hips, guiding him to turn around again. Harry went easily, this time placing his hands on top of the dresser, about waist-height in front of him. Louis’s hands returned to Harry’s thighs, this time skirting closer and closer to the part of his skin covered in lace. “Babygirl,” whispered Louis, and Harry couldn’t help the high noise that came out of his throat. His insides felt like water; like all his organs had melted into a sea of affirmation. They’d played like this so many times over the years but it had never felt as seminal as this. Louis’s hands were moving over the lace, now, and Harry couldn’t believe how different this was from everything he’d felt in the past few weeks. 

He’d been trying so desperately to compartmentalize; accept the loss of his flowy hair and take it in stride as the boy, the man, he was. But Louis was pulling the knickers down over his arse and Harry didn’t feel like a boy, didn’t feel like  _ anything _ , just felt soft and pretty and loved and himself. Maybe he didn’t have to think of himself as a boy outside sex; maybe he could be like Louis said and be this way  _ all the time. _

A soft brush of Louis’s lips on the dimple of his back brought Harry more into the present, but the contact was gone as soon as it came. “You’re shaking, love,” said Louis from behind him, and as soon as Louis said it Harry realized it was true. Quick as a flash, the knickers were back over his arse and Louis was on his feet again, pulling Harry off the dresser and wrapping Harry in his arms from behind. “Alright?” 

“I’m fine,” whispered Harry. “Promise.” He laced his fingers with Louis’s where they rested against his stomach, and they stayed there for a moment, breathing together. Harry pushed his hips backwards to make contact with the front of Louis’s trousers. “Want you. Just feel good, happy, yours.” 

“Alright,” said Louis. “On the bed, then.” A gentle order, but it sent a wave of desire through Harry. He climbed onto the bed and Louis pulled the duvet down, out of their way. Harry settled himself on his back, waiting, wanting. 

“Uh-uh, babygirl,” came Louis’s voice from the foot of their bed. “Hands and knees. Spread your legs for me.”

Harry could feel his cheeks heating up, from embarrassment and pleasure at the crass order. “ _ Daddy _ ,” teased Harry, even as he rearranged himself according to Louis’s directions. “What kind of girl do you take me for?” Giggling now, he did his best to send an affronted look over his shoulder and arch his back extra at the same time. Satisfyingly, Louis’s mouth dropped open a little bit. 

Louis made a sound somewhere between a groan and a moan, but seemed to recover quickly enough. “Think you’re  _ my _ girl,” said Louis simply, and Harry felt the bed dip and Louis’s presence behind him, hands ghosting over the backs of his legs again. “Always want me between your legs.” 

And Louis wasn’t wrong, not at all. Especially like this, all splayed out under Louis’s gaze, their position made him feel delicious and desired. Louis was hardly touching him and Harry already felt a little crazed, subtly rocking back to get his bum closer to Louis. Anything to get closer to Louis. 

“I was getting ready to eat you out earlier,” said Louis conversationally. Louis’s hands were firm over his arse now, and Harry felt himself go breathless — he hadn’t even realized what Louis had been doing before, when his mind had been spinning a mile a minute. They didn’t do this often because of the careful cleaning it required, but Harry had showered less than an hour ago. “Still want it?” asked Louis. As if that was even a question. 

“Want it, want it,” chanted Harry. He pushed his knees further apart, opening himself up, anything to speed Louis along. “Want it, please.” But Louis didn’t seem to be much in the mood for teasing, and Harry felt deft hands sliding the lace off his arse again, leaving his cock still trapped in the lace at the front of his body. Before Harry could even think, Louis’s hands were pulling his cheeks apart and  _ fuck _ _ , _ with no warning, no teasing at all Louis’s tongue was on him, licking and kissing like he couldn’t get enough. 

Harry let his eyes fall shut and his mouth fall open, quickly losing himself in the touch. Louis’s tongue on him was always overwhelming but something felt different this time about the way Louis’s mouth met his skin — Louis’s movements were less pointed than usual; broader strokes over a bigger area. Harry opened his mouth to question it, make some comment but it was still  _ so good _ so all that came out was a breathy moan. Louis pulled back for a moment and Harry didn’t even have time to register the loss before Louis was speaking. “Love eating my girl out,” he said. “So messy, baby, just for me.” 

And then Louis’s mouth was back on him and it dawned on Harry, the realization crystal clear through the fog of his brain that Louis was eating him out as if — as if he had — a  _ pussy _ . Louis had actually done this to him before, he remembered, but right now it floored Harry; sent him into trembles as he dropped down to his forearms, gasping and pressing his forehead into the sheets. 

The feeling only got better and Harry found himself rocking back and forth, into the delicious feeling of Louis’s mouth on him and chasing a phantom friction on his cock. Louis’s tongue started to poke into him, the stubble on his face burning Harry’s sensitive skin, his shaking thighs. He felt his brain dissolving, Louis doing everything exactly right, making Harry feel so sweet and girlish under his hands. “Daddy,” he whined, without consciously deciding to do so. They’d both been half-joking when they’d said it before, but Harry was dead serious now. Louis was serious, too, with the way Louis’s hands were suddenly so tightly gripping Harry’s flesh. “ _ Daddy _ , so good, uhn!”

It wasn’t long after that before Louis slowed down, gave one last sweet kiss to Harry’s spit-covered hole, and Harry felt the bed shift as Louis pulled away. He didn’t have it in him to protest, really, just breathed hard and kept rocking his hips, trying to recover but desperately needing more. Louis pulled the knickers back over Harry’s arse, trapping the mess of drying spit beneath the lace. It was gross, really, but Harry kind of loved it, loved being just a bit uncomfortable for Louis. 

Louis’s hands stroked up and down his back, over his arse, down his thighs. “Good girl,” he whispered, and Harry could only whimper. “Can you turn over for me? Want to see your pretty face now.” 

Harry did know how to turn over, yeah. He took a moment to figure out how and dazedly found himself on his back, Louis having shuffled close and leaning over him from between his legs. Louis’s face was flushed and covered in spit, and Harry had never been more in love with him. “Beautiful, darling.” Harry felt hands on hips, and flushed when he realized he’d been slowly pushing them up into the air. “But look, baby,” and Harry followed his eyes down to where the head of his cock had poked out of the waistband of his knickers. “Do good girls let their cocks out of their knickers?” Harry blushed furiously; couldn’t help but moan.

“No, daddy.”

“Let’s fix that, hmm?” Harry nodded and held his breath, head spinning, as Louis carefully tucked his cock back into the knickers. He was achingly hard now and the lace trapped him so tight. “There you go, much better...” Louis leaned down and kissed the head of his cock through the knickers. When he sat up, they stayed there for a moment, looking at each other. “How are you feeling?” he asked. 

“Good,” breathed Harry. 

Louis smiled above him. “My babygirl,” cooed Louis, moving his hands from Harry’s hips and up over his torso. “My girl makes the prettiest sounds, you know?” Harry couldn’t keep still, squirming from bliss. He kept arching and undulating as Louis’s hands skated all over him, over his stomach, over his nipples, onto his neck, never stopping. “Always these high-pitched, breathy little things. Sometimes your voice is so deep, but when you’re my girl... sound proper sweet.” 

“Mmm!” said Harry, grinning. Louis’s hands left his torso long enough to grab Harry’s legs below the knee, bending them so that Harry’s feet were planted on the mattress. “Yeah?” Harry bucked his hips up a little extra at that, at how perfectly exposed he felt, Louis still in his trousers and bracketed between Harry’s bent legs. Louis’s hands were back on him, holding the dip of his waist. “You like it... like it when I’m...” he threw his head back and arched up into Louis’s hands. “Uh! Uhn!” he moaned, girlishly as he could, as if Louis was inside of him right now, pushing the sounds out. “Ungh,  _ daddy _ ...” 

Harry looked back down at Louis, who seemed to be in a state of mild shock. “Baby,” he groaned, and Harry could see the dual desperation and amusement in his eyes. Harry could only giggle, sparkling, ecstatic that Louis loved him like this, in this way where he felt so himself. Louis was grinning too, and leaned down to kiss Harry’s knee. He seemed to refocus himself, and before Harry could blink Louis had fetched the lube from their side table and was back between Harry’s legs. 

“Now,” said Louis. “Do you want me inside of you?” Harry could only nod; felt himself clench at the suggestion. Of course he wanted it. Needed it. “It’s a shame,” said Louis, and Harry jerked as suddenly there were fingers rubbing over his cock, through the lace, “that we’ll have to take your knickers off to get you fucked.” Harry moaned and squirmed. He’d barely noticed his own cock this whole time, but now that it had some attention it was begging for more. Louis’s fingers ran over the head, and he could tell that the lace was sticky already. 

“Daddy,” said Harry plaintively, the roughness of the lace already too much and the lightness of Louis’s fingers too little. He arched his back to get away from it, pushed his hips back up for more. 

“Hey,” warned Louis, “be a good girl, stay still.” Harry shut his eyes, whined, and willed his body to obey as Louis rubbed harder. “There you go. Just wanna play with you a little bit, see how wet you can get your knickers for me...” Louis focused in around the head of his cock, rubbing with two fingers. Like you’d touch a clit. Harry gave up and let his mouth hang open, no longer fighting the sounds that came out of him on every exhale. The pressure and pain built and built, and just as he was about to break down and protest again, Louis took his hand away. 

Harry had one second to breathe before Louis’s hand was back, formed in a half circle this time, running up and down the length of Harry’s cock — the closest he could to actually wanking him off without reaching into the knickers. “So wet, baby... Feels good? Hurts?” Harry nodded miserably in confirmation of both, gasping when Louis’s fingers pushed down hard on the head of his cock. Everything was swirling around Harry and shit, actually, he could come from this. It wouldn’t take much, he realized, and if Louis wasn’t careful — 

“Daddy,” Harry gasped out, accidentally letting his hips buck up into Louis’s hand. “Daddy, you’re gonna make me come.” The harsh pressure let up instantly, replaced instead with the same light fingers Louis had started out with. 

“Oh, love,” said Louis, leaning down to kiss Harry’s sternum. “Like it to hurt, huh? Such a good girl for telling me, thank you.” 

“Mmm,” said Harry, trying to regroup his scattered brain which was happy at the praise, but yearning for friction again. “Daddy. Fuck me, please.” 

“I will, H, don’t worry,” said Louis soothingly. Louis’s fingers made one last swipe over where the tip of his cock was trapped in the lace, and then his hand was in front of Harry’s mouth. Louis’s fingers were wet, he realized, tacky with what was seeping from the head of Harry’s cock. “See how wet you are?” 

Harry whined and leaned forward to sucked Louis’s fingers into his mouth. “Good girl,” said Louis. Harry melted at the praise and the feeling of any part of Louis inside of him; wished he could spend an hour just like this. But all too soon Louis’s fingers were gone from his mouth, and instead came to rest over the lace on Harry’s hips. “Gonna take these off now,” said Louis, and fine, he could get behind this because soon Louis’s fingers could be inside his  _ arse _ . “Lift up, that’s good...” 

Louis carefully peeled the knickers off his cock and Harry moaned at the release, so ready for Louis to touch him again, take him, make him come. But Louis had already delayed again; Harry looked down to see him looking contemplative with Harry’s knickers just above the knee. “Should keep you like this, baby,” said Louis. “So you’d have to keep your legs together... Turn you over, fuck you while I hold you open with my hands.”

Harry’s heart jumped. “ _ No _ , daddy, please,” he protested. He needed Louis close, tucked between his legs. “Daddy, I need —” 

“No, babygirl, I know,” agreed Louis soothingly, pulling the knickers the rest of the way off. Harry let his legs fall open, sagging into the bed in relief. “I wouldn’t do that to you, not today.” Suddenly the knickers were gone and Louis’s fingers were already coated in lube; evidently Harry had reached the point where his perception of space and time started to warp. 

“Not  _ today _ ,” Harry had just enough presence of mind left to complain, and Louis just grinned as he pressed a finger inside. 

“Oh, H,” said Louis suddenly, as Harry felt himself clench around Louis’s finger. “When was the last time you had something inside you?” 

“Nngh,” said Harry. Louis’s finger was moving in and out of him, and it didn’t feel good yet, but he was already out of his mind with the promise of what was to come. “You. Before I left.” He pushed his hips up, willing his body to relax faster. He’d been too busy, too angsty, in the past three weeks to take the time to settle himself on the bed of his rented apartment and stick his fingers up his arse.

“Aw, love,” said Louis sympathetically. “So long... let’s do a good job with this, then.” And at that Harry melted, let himself sink into the mattress as Louis carefully worked up to two fingers and then three. Harry whimpered as Louis’s fingers brushed where he wanted them most, finally starting to rock down rhythmically to meet Louis’s hand. 

“More,” whined Harry. One of his legs was up on Louis’s shoulder, and at one point or another Louis’s free hand had ended up tangled with Harry’s. Louis’s fingers felt so good inside him but it wasn’t enough, not today. “Want you, more, please...” 

But Louis just kept on with his steady rhythm, the slide getting easier and easier as Harry felt himself open up. “Alright,” said Louis finally, curling his fingers once to make Harry squeak before he pulled his fingers out. Harry gasped, unable to stop his body from bearing down onto nothing. He hated this part, hated feeling so empty just when he needed it the most. But Louis was already moving as quickly as he could, pulling off his trousers and pants, tossing a pillow under Harry’s hips, and finally taking his own cock in hand to coat it with lube. They’d been together so long; Louis knew when it was okay to tease and when Harry just  _ needed _ _ it _ . Harry grabbed for Louis, wrapping his legs around him as soon as Louis was ready. 

“In, in, in,” said Harry, but he didn’t even need to beg this time. Harry fell silent as Louis took one of Harry’s legs in each hand, placed them over his shoulders, and started pushing, slowly, surely, into Harry’s body. Harry shut his eyes and gasped, tried to take in air as he adjusted. The first push was always just as overwhelming as it was the first time. 

Louis bottomed out and dropped his forehead to Harry’s shoulder, both of them panting and clutching each other as Harry willed his muscles to relax; to accommodate Louis’s presence inside him. The intimacy of this process made his head spin. Louis had made a place for himself not just in Harry’s mind but inside Harry’s physical self; his body. Blood, organs, bones, Louis. All inside Harry. One and the same. 

“Okay,” Harry whispered after a while, and Louis rocked his hips gently, testing the waters. 

“Okay?” asked Louis. Always making sure. 

“Please,” answered Harry. Louis was caging him in, starting up a gentle rhythm as they held each other close. Normally they’d have a little more distance — could get a better angle that way — but this was the climax of such turmoil and vulnerability, and it seemed like Louis needed the closeness just as much as Harry. Everything else in the world was just background noise; nothing mattered but Louis on top of him, around him, inside him. “Feels good, uhn, more,” Harry found himself saying, not entirely coherent but still good enough.

Louis fucked him slow and deep, making them both gasp and shiver. “Babygirl,” whispered Louis softly, and Harry could only whimper. The minutes slipped by and Louis kept his movements heavy and thorough, but gradually faster and faster. Harry heard sounds in his ear and realized it was him; he’d started up a chorus of high-pitched moans just like he’d imitated earlier, punched out of him each time Louis fucked into him. Louis was moaning too, losing finesse as they got closer. 

Harry was too gone to care; their bodies were close enough that he could get friction on his cock from Louis’s stomach if he arched his back while Louis pulled out. “That enough, love?” Louis panted out from above him. 

“Yeah, yeah,” said Harry, moaning as Louis changed the angle to hit his spot. In pure overwhelm and euphoria, he faintly registered the tears running down the sides of his face. “Lou,  _ Louis _ , daddy, I’m close, wanna come —”

“You can, babygirl, come on,” said Louis, and Harry let himself go. “Wanna see you feel good, there you go...” Louis fucked him hard, just the way he needed in the last moment, and Harry pushed his cock up against Louis’s stomach once more before he was whiting out, defenseless against the pleasure that surged through his body. 

Through his haze he registered Louis coming as well, groaning and pushing deep into Harry. Their grip on each other loosened as their bodies relaxed, Harry’s legs slipping down from Louis’s shoulders. Louis pulled out and wrapped himself around Harry, both of them disgusting with drying lube and come but neither caring at all. Harry waited for his breathing to calm, mind completely blank except a feeling of fuzzy peace.

Louis was the first to speak, a minute or maybe ten after they collapsed against each other. 

“Okay, love?” And for the second time today, Harry knew he wasn’t just asking about the sex. 

“Yes,” breathed back Harry. He hadn’t felt this happy in weeks. He should tell Louis that. “So happy. So much better.” 

Louis was swimming in front of him, Harry realized, because he must have gotten teary again. With a clench of his heart, he saw that Louis’s eyelashes were wet too. 

“Thank you for telling me,” whispered Louis. 

“Thank you for understanding.” 

Louis breathed deeply in response, kissing the top of Harry’s head. “You do look like a pretty soldier,” he said after a while, bringing his hands up to play with what was left of Harry’s hair. Harry just giggled weakly, exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster of the past few hours. Weeks, really. He needed a nap. 

“Feel a little better about it now,” said Harry. “And it’ll grow out a bit soon... grows fast.” 

“Yeah.” 

They laid there, Harry steadfastly ignoring the come drying on his stomach till it became too itchy to bear. There was a mess of substances between his legs, too, and they both liked it messy but there really was a line, somewhere. “Gonna rinse off,” said Harry, using the last of his strength to haul himself upright and out of the bed. He felt Louis’s eyes on him as he walked towards the en-suite, and turned around, arching an eyebrow as he reached the door. “You made the mess,” Harry pointed out. “Better clean it up.” Harry smiled when he turned back around because Louis was already on his way. 

They waited for the water to warm up, leaning sleepily against one another. “Clean,” said Harry. Louis tested the water and pulled them under the spray. “Then lunch. Then nap.”   
  


“Excellent,” said Louis. 

“And then I need to get the update on Lottie. I fell asleep before I could hear on Wednesday.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” said Louis as he dutifully reached for the soap. Harry’s heart glowed. 

***

(When Harry left for Dunkerque the next evening, he added a small collection of his favorite knickers to his bag. Not to wear on set, or anything, just so he could wear them for himself on the weekends. And on Monday morning, Harry smiled as he finished up getting into costume and thought of Louis the night before, waving him off from their front porch and calling out dramatically for his pretty soldier not to forget him off at war. Feeling more at peace than he ever had, Harry laced up his boots and started his day.)

**Author's Note:**

> I wish gender peace upon you all. Also i KNOW there are 28 semicolons in this fic do NOT @ me  
> Please leave me a comment telling me what you liked! What you hated! Your favorite lines!!! Comments make me soooo happy 🥰💖🥰
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr](https://jishlerfics.tumblr.com), or reblog the fic post [here](https://jishlerfics.tumblr.com/post/640038103337353216/you-like-feeling-like-my-girl-louis-wasnt).


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